Free The Shadow of Arms by Hwang Sok-Yong Page A

left standing. The Americans had built several defensive bunkers on the high terrain. Stretching off toward the Atwat Mountains on the far side there was a series of valleys, some shallow, some deep, all covered with dense jungle foliage. Most of the villages around Dong Dao had become little commercial satellites of the American military camp. The village of Sondin, where there was a Buddhist temple, remained as it had been before the war. The inhabitants of Sondin were still mostly peasant farmers.
    Pham Minh walked the whole way to Dong Dao. The road checks had already been set up. He had to pass through three different checkpoints where police and militia were inspecting IDs and searching through personal effects. He barely made it to Sondin before dark. The night shift teams, fully armed, were heading out to relieve the checkpoint sentries. The village looked peaceful. Families were out in their front yards eating rice from bowls and children were playing in the dusty streets. Uncle Trinh’s house was directly across from the temple, which stood at the center of the village.
    In the old days, Uncle Trinh had been the principal of a grammar school in Da Nang. Since leaving the school in 1963, he had been making a living as a horticulturist, cultivating a nursery in his garden. Back in Da Nang he had led the Association of Buddhist Students. Pham Minh, Tanh, and their other friends from Hue were all disciples of the old teacher, fondly calling him “Uncle Trinh.” There were many former students who had gone off into the jungle or become NLF officers who had also called him “Uncle.”
    Uncle Trinh was an active participant in the anti-government movement that spread among Buddhists across the country, from May to October of 1963. Tanh criticized him for being too meek a liberal, but Pham Minh deeply respected the man’s vast knowledge of Vietnamese history and highly valued his opinions. There were always youths gathered at his feet.
    He was living with his wife and daughter. He had two sons as well, but after the Geneva Accords one of his sons went to Hanoi for good and the whereabouts of his second son were unknown. Pham Minh had not seen the second son since the rainy season of the previous year. Uncle Trinh’s home was wooden and rectangular. Out in the front yard roses and cannas were in full bloom, and behind the house there was a large flowerbed with several species. A table and chairs were set up on the porch, but Uncle Trinh’s seat was empty and only his wife and daughter were sitting there drinking tea.
    â€œHello.”
    â€œOh, Minh, when did you come?”
    â€œIs Uncle at home?”
    â€œHe’s inside.”
    As Pham Minh approached, he could smell a jasmine fragrance wafting from their cups.
    â€œIt’s Cholon tea, would you like some?”
    As Minh considered whether or not to go inside, the daughter tugged at his sleeve and said, “Father is sleeping now. Please wait till he wakes up. How’s Hue?”
    â€œBeen quiet lately.”
    â€œIt was in an uproar this time last year, wasn’t it? I heard the city was occupied for two weeks.”
    â€œThat’s right, it was liberated for two weeks exactly,” Minh said, correcting her choice of verbs.
    As Mrs. Trinh poured some green tea into Minh’s cup, the daughter asked, “Have you eaten dinner yet? We made some curry, there’s still plenty left . . . ”
    â€œI would like some, thank you.”
    The young widow patted Minh’s hand gently.
    â€œNo wonder you have no energy.”
    She brought out the meal. Fried bananas, vegetables, and sweet rice with curry on top. His mouth watering at the smell of curry, Minh picked up the pair of long chopsticks and started wolfing down the food.
    â€œYour parents are well?”
    Pham Minh seemed not to have heard the question. Hunched over the table, he was totally absorbed in eating. Flares began to light up the dusk